As is clear from even a brief perusal of the current catalogues,
competition is truly fierce in this repertoire – lion fierce,
roar. I don’t have the feeling that EMI is particularly scared
however. Teaming Evgeny Kissin with Sir Colin Davis and using
the fine support of the London Symphony Orchestra, placing the
whole melting pot in the respected acoustic of Studio I at Abbey
Road, this new set of the complete Beethoven piano concertos has
all the ingredients to be a classic benchmark.
We’re not short of benchmark recordings of the Beethoven Concertos.
There is the Brendel/Rattle combination on Philips, renowned for
its refinement and dark, subliminal Viennese power. Then there
is Pollini/Abbado’s Berlin set, which can be wayward in its ‘characterful’
live setting, but at its best has moments of real genius. Melvyn
Tan’s is another good set, but you can’t put a fortepiano
and historic performance against these modern examples. More of
an also-ran, but a set which I’ve had knocking around for ages,
is that with Gerhard Oppitz and the Gewandhausorchester Leipzig.
I have to admit the only reason for hanging on to this is the
bonus piano arrangement version of the Concerto for Violin, which
has to be dubious enough: almost as tedious as the novelty of
having recordings encoded in Dolby Surround. My real favourite
of long standing has been that with Perahia/Haitink, and while
I recognise that my familiarity with the Concertgebouw has made
it as appealing to me as an old and comfortable hat, the sheer
all-round excellence of this set still has lasting value on any
terms – subjective or objective.
The first reference which I plucked from the shelves was not
a complete set however. Fans of Kissin will know of and no doubt
already own the 1997 Sony disc of his Beethoven concertos Nos.
2 and 5, with the Philharmonia conducted by James Levine. This
was also made at Abbey Road, and so the comparisons are immediate
and some of the differences fascinatingly subtle. For the most
part, the later recordings are more on the broad side, with a
minute added to the first movements of both concertos, and only
the adagio of the Concerto No.2 coming in a little shorter
in the new recording. No big surprises here – less youthful ebullience
or impetuousness in the faster movements, a shade less indulgence
in the slow – the wisdom of ten years added experience would make
this the predictable pattern. The story is not quite this simple
however. It may be partly due to the recording, but I also have
the impression that Kissin’s touch has changed a little over the
years. Compared with the older recording there are some moments
where he appears to be playing more through the keys; adding
weight and impact, sometimes seeming to prefer to have the strings
jumping around on top of the lid of the piano rather than safely
embedded in the frame. After the initial impressions of the ‘lion
of the keyboard’ having taken up extra power training and demolition
exercises, one begins to realise that there are plenty of other
moments where grace, lightness and wit are strongly evident, so
in this context perseverance pays dividends.
Russian-ness in pianism is something to which I have become
sensitised by consorting with my mate Johan the piano, and in
order to compare like with like I have also referred to the rather
marvellous set with Mikhail
Pletnev and the Russian National Orchestra on DG. Pletnev
is as fearless as Kissin, but plays around with the spaces built
in to Beethoven’s work, introducing personal inflections both
little and large while somehow preserving and inhabiting the character
of the music like few others I have heard. Pletnev rides the orchestra
like an expert horseman, moulding his sound to become part of
the whole where Kissin sparkles on top of the orchestral textures
in the less soloistic passages. What both of these great pianists
share is a refusal to be beige at any time: no section is seen
as transitional, no moment which doesn’t have its rightful intensity
and expressive value.
I’ve dotted around with a mixture of comparisons, but the
most important thing is to ask how these recordings stand on their
own terms. One feature which stands out immediately is the transparent
openness of the recordings. Wide, spacious stereo and superb balance
between orchestra and demonstration piano sound all make for a
big percentage of the asking price of such a new set, and this
cycle has these qualities in abundance. The LSO sound has plenty
of sensitivity, but is also a big-boned animal where the full
force of the orchestra is demanded. ‘Big bones don’t wobble’ says
one of my constantly dieting friends, but Sir Colin holds the
throttle firmly down when it comes to vibrato in the strings.
This creates the desired warmth in the sound, and only very occasionally
leaves some wavy traces where one desk or other is exposed in
a quiet passage. Sir Colin is also caught out having a little
moan to himself as well, which can be a little off-putting in
the slow movements, as well as plenty of sotto voce vocalisations
elsewhere. You can tune into these right at the start of the first
separated notes of the Piano Concerto No.1. There
is also a couple of clicks, one just a few seconds into the second
movement of this concerto which I’m surprised were left, but in
general the production values are, as I say, of the highest order.
The Piano Concerto No.1 opens with a genuinely noble
sense of grandeur, but with a measured pace the contrast between
this and the lyrical second section has been greater. Sir Colin
doesn’t really soften the boundaries between Beethoven’s extremes
of mood, but neither does he go in for massive excess in their
treatment. I have lived with this set for a few days now, and
while I know such things grow and change on one, I found myself
impressed by the musicianship in the first two concertos. If there
is a discrepancy, it is Kissin’s ‘iron fist in a velvet glove’
as opposed to Sir Colin’s ‘iron fist in an oven glove’ – Kissin’s
penetrating sound darts through the beautifully rounded orchestral
textures with concert-hall projection, and while there are many
moments of gentle intimacy I rarely had the sense of chamber-music
making I feel with Pletnev. That said, the descending scales and
other passages in the soft centre to the opening Allegro con
brio are quite magical, as is the lyrical charm of the second
Largo movement. Perhaps it is the more brittle, showier
treble in what I strongly suspect must be a Steinway piano which
makes some of the difference in perception between Kissin’s colours
and Pletnev’s. The Steinway trades brilliant brightness of sound
against the more sustain-orientated Blüthner, so that while Kissin’s
legato is of course a wonderful set of lines, the piano remains
a lid on top of the biscuit tin of the orchestra, rather than
a more fluid set of sugary nuggets which can move among all those
different textures and tasty flavours. Returning to the Piano
Concerto No.2, and there are some differences of emphasis
between Kissin’s 1997 and 2007 performances, but in general the
broader sweep of the first and last movements create a more rock-like
foundation than the more flighty earlier recording, allowing Kissin
to expand more subtle ideas. The first movement is full of lovely
subtleties both from the orchestra and the soloist, and one has
the feeling of some genuine wit coming through, even some Beethovenian
self-parody as the scales go up and down like marbles on a child’s
toy. The flautist gets a nasty kick at 34 seconds into the Adagio,
but such minor blemishes don’t take anything away from a performance
which will live on in your inner ear for a long time afterwards
– at least, it does in mine.
Moving on to disc two, and the mysterious, dark opening to
the Piano Concerto No.3 is nicely presented, with every
ounce of inner movement balanced and shaped for strength of soul
and direction of purpose. Kissin matches the orchestra for power
in his entry, and the rippling nature of some of the piano’s subsequent
passagework suits Kissin’s evenness of touch to the ground. The
Largo is full of rich funereal atmosphere from the start,
weighty in the low frequencies, hazily transcendent in the upper
registers of the orchestra. The inner section is hugely sustained,
and the slow-wobbly vibrato of the first flute solo is the only
negative aspect. Slow vibrato in slow music does not for
beautiful expressiveness make – yuk! The tempo of the Rondo
is less headlong than in several recordings I’ve heard, and
again as a result, there is room for some expansion of orchestral
sonority and wonderful touches from the soloist. The sheer power
of Beethoven’s musical arguments take on their own momentum in
what turn out to be a truly great performance.
The opening of the Piano Concerto No.4 does initially
seem to be a little lacking in character. Kissin and Davis are
however saving themselves, showing a little sketch from Beethoven’s
pocket book, before the development and return of the main theme
are given their true status. This is another cracking performance,
with the symphonic scale of the first movement paced to perfection
and packed with subtly delivered contrast and event. Sir Colin
relishes the recitative character of the Andante con moto’s
opening, as does Kissin, receding between the unison columns of
the string’s interjections as if meditating on the nature of Xanadu’s
‘caverns, measureless to man.’ This movement of course serves
as an introduction to Beethoven’s stock in trade, the Rondo
finale, this time marked Vivace, which is taken as
truly ‘lively’ in character: highly animated as well as being
excitingly and dramatically paced, the virtuosity of the music’s
creation and its performance going hand in hand to create a sense
of maximum freshness.
Evgeny Kissin performed these concertos at the Barbican last
year, and the synergy and feeling of a ‘live’ character to the
playing comes through in these later concertos. The opening of
the Piano Concerto No.5 is cataclysmic, the waves of both
orchestral sound and bending piano strings demanding you put down
your tea and pay attention. At nearly 22 minutes, this is the
longest of the piano concerto movements, and the remarkable edifice
which it constructs remains entirely engrossing. The clarity in
the recording is of benefit here, as every inflection counts,
both the devil and the heavens being in the detail. Indeed, there
are one or two moments where I felt the intonation of the winds
might have been a little more accurate – in the clarinets to point
the finger, but this is another one of those minor points I wouldn’t
want to stretch too far. With just a brief note on cadenzas, one
needs to mention that Kissin uses all of Beethoven’s own, and
is of course brilliantly magnificent in all of them: expressing
pianistic virtuosity without losing integration into the rest
of the movement in question. The Adagio un poco mosso of
this 5th concerto is really gorgeous: only some rather
sharply prodded high notes in the piano breaking the sustained
spell of innocence, love and simplicity. The Allegro ma non
troppo finale has magnificent stature, orchestra and soloist
responding to each other and sparring in animated and amicable
rivalry for sheer Beethovenian heroism, power and impact.
These recordings are accompanied by useful booklet notes by
Richard Osborne, and my only comment on the presentation is the
isolation of the pianist in the photos – as if the orchestra and
conductor had abandoned the poor fellow in a rather grim and chilly
warehouse. While these recordings are truly great, one thing I
didn’t really feel I was getting was a sense of extreme renewal.
If you already own one of the ‘great’ recordings then you would
probably find a greater sense of some kind of ‘new’ Beethoven
with Pletnev on DG, but then, you may also find that this ‘new’
Beethoven is not entirely to your taste. I still find Pletnev’s
‘adventures with’ approach to be entirely magnetic and fascinating,
but have to admit to falling in love with these new EMI recordings.
It didn’t happen all at once, and there are still some ‘toothpaste
squeezed from the middle’ moments of minor irritation. These are
picky little details which I know will still make my moustache
twitch when I’m 64, but as performances and recordings of genuine
stature I can confidently report that these will enter the catalogue
as an entirely desirable object with which, once obtained, you
will find yourself reluctant to part.
Dominy
Clements
